Bruises
by Kreskes
Summary: A series of Haymitch/Octavia drabbles.
1. Exhausting

Exhausting was probably the best word for Haymitch. Octavia stared quietly at the man passed out on her couch, contemplating his ever feature. He was older than her, too old for her many would say, and his face was etched with the lines of his years. She studied the curve of his brow, furrowed in a nightmare, the arch of his neck, the slump of his shoulders and she shook her head. He was the most exhausting human being she had ever known.

He had his good days, of course. Those were the days where he was kind to her, with only the slightest touch of liquor on his breath and the faintest trace of it in his kiss. He would be gentle with her then, watching his words, minding his gaze. She would feel the warmth of his smile, _her _smile, the one he only shared with her. She would have his laughter in her ears, his hands in hers, and his presence surrounding her. Those were the days she loved him. Those were the days she watched slip away slowly.

The days that replaced them could be anywhere from bad to mortifying. The sweet words replaced by harsh slurs. The caresses turned into rough grabs and pulls. He wouldn't watch what he said to her in front of people, often divulging details about their private life in polite company. Those were the nights she would have to leave parties early, ashamed and barely holding back tears. They were nights she would try to keep him calm enough to sleep, only to have him wake, screaming, from nightmares hours later. Those were the days she resented him.

She never hated him. Hate was too strong for what she felt toward him, but she hated herself. She hated how she shared her bed with him, only to have him fill it with vomit and the stench of alcohol. She hated how she had to look after him so carefully. She hated how she had to lock up her liquor with _3_ locks. She hated how it was never his fault that he was like this. She hated how she came from the place that ruined, ruined, _ruined_ this man.

That night had been a bad night. He had caused another fight between her and Effie. Octavia wondered if she could keep defending him, defending her choice. She was tired and it was all because of him. She thought of all the quiet words that blossomed into screaming matches after he had been drinking, the shame the sympathetic looks her neighbors gave her brought, the utter disregard for her feelings and a voice inside her screamed, 'STOP DOING THIS TO YOURSELF! GET RID OF HIM!' and she would almost listen.

He shifted in his sleep and Octavia stood immediately to get a blanket from her linen closet. She wrapped the soft cloth around him and tenderly touched his face. Haymitch sighed in his sleep and she felt the same twinge of happiness she had gotten before the embarrassment, the fights, the hate. She placed a soft kiss on the top of his head and shut off the lights in her living room. He would be awake in a few hours, stumbling into her bed where he would kiss her sloppily on the cheek and mutter a slurred apology before settling against her back to sleep. And that was the time she loved him anyway.


	2. Iris

Mornings were his best times. When the sun began to rise and light filtered in between the cracks in the heavy drapes he was usually exhausted from battling nightmares. In his half-sleep haze he would simply look at the woman in the bed beside him. He wasn't sure what belonged to them as individuals anymore, wasn't sure if this bed was _hers_ or _theirs. _He hadn't slept in his own house in weeks and the lines were blurring. He was, to himself, calling things _ours_ and thinking about them as an _us_.

Octavia began stirring, rustling the huge comforter as she flipped over to look up at him. She gave him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed.

"I'm here," she murmured, just as she did every morning, and settled her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his left fingers tangling in her mess of blonde hair. She was asleep by the time he whispered:

"I love you,"


	3. Bruises

It had been a terrible night. Octavia had spent two hours trying to calm Haymitch only to end up with him shoving her into the bookshelf in her bedroom. She flipped over in her bed to find herself alone, her body aching, bruises forming a map on her arms and side. She didn't even want to know what her back looked like. She wondered if Haymitch had decided to go home in the middle of the night. His waking nightmares had been getting worse and worse and she had been having an ever harder time keeping him in the present. Her body ached as she stood and stretched. Glancing over at her closet she decided she didn't want to touch her own body yet, knowing every inch of her skin would scream while she dressed.

Stepping out of her room she found Haymitch sitting at her kitchen table with his back toward her. He was staring quietly out the window, a half-empty bottle of clear liquor beside his right hand. Octavia padded quietly until she was behind him where she slowly reached her arms around his shoulders, placing her lips on the back of his ear.

"It was an accident," she murmured and she felt his shoulders tense, "it was an accident. You weren't here," his hands untangled her arms from around his neck and she heard him sigh.

"You always say that," he said hoarsely, "You always fucking say that and it doesn't make it ok what I do," his fists where clenched on the table and he was staring at the alcohol. She tilted his head back and stared into his up-side-down eyes. The ever-present dark circles under his eyes were darker this morning and his eyes were bloodshot and bleary. She kissed him, a slow, tender kiss. They had said all of this before and there was nothing either could do to change it. When she pulled away, he shook his head, "You don't need to be with me," he stared out the window, the rays of the sun warming their skin, "You could be with someone who won't hurt you," his voice was barely audible. She pulled his chair back and sat on his lap, her face inches from his.

She wanted to say something, _anything_ to make him feel better. To take away the hate and disgust she knew he held for himself. No such words came to her, so she simply smiled and stated, "I love you." He looked away from her, brow furrowing.

"You shouldn't," he muttered. She gently turned his face toward hers and kissed him again. His hands found the tender skin on her back and she winced against him. He tried to pull away, to apologize, but her mouth caught his again before he could say anything. They sat, locked together like that for a long moment, until Haymitch's body had relaxed against hers. She stood and took his hand, tugging him gently.

"Let's go to bed," she smiled at him again. He offered her a small smile and no resistance as she led them back to the large, fluffy comfort of her bed.


End file.
